


Deceiving Tomorrows

by ephemeraldark



Category: Asagao Academy: Normal Boots Club, PBG Hardcore series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Gen, if you like hc season 6 u just want them to play dnd, remember that tumblr post thats like, sorta?, tags subject to change lol, thank u to asagao discord for giving me the confidence to post this, well thats how this started
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22286977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeraldark/pseuds/ephemeraldark
Summary: After a powerful spirit known only as the Savior is revived and destroys his life, Jeff is forced to bind with an eclectic band of strangers to piece his world back together.(based loosely on dnd stuff!)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 5





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo,,,,this is my first fic on this account! i've been drafting for like two months and i finally bit the bullet and said alright let's post her!!!
> 
> as always with this type of writing, nothing here is meant to assume anything about the associated people! im literally just vibing bro its not that deep

Jeff was painfully aware of two things as he tore through the forest. 

First, the painful burn of each breath at the back of his throat. 

Second, he wasn’t alone. No matter how desperately he ran, the sounds of clinking armor pursued him through the dark forest. He had always prided himself on being at least _somewhat_ competent and courageous, but it seemed that this was a situation he wouldn’t be able to get out of so easily. 

Perhaps, when he wasn’t running for his life with his dead family’s most sacred treasure held to his chest, Jeff would be able to fully process the events of the past seventy-two hours. How quickly things had changed, from a small murmur in the outskirts of the city to a full-blown insurgency in just under three days! If he wasn't the victim of the scenario, he might even find it fascinating. 

NormalBlock kingdom, his home, had been a peaceful place for many centuries, with people from both the former Hidden Block and Normal Boots kingdoms coexisting harmoniously. Although there had been fighting amongst the groups many years ago, it seemed that all of the tension had drained away. Yet, a revolution had sparked in the inner capital and caught fire seemingly overnight, lit by the influence of a powerful spirit calling itself The Savior working through a number of followers. Many followers of The Savior were of good standing in society, leaving their motives to suddenly turn on the crown completely unknown. 

The first out of place event happened a little over a month ago. Jeff didn’t hear many details, and the event wasn’t reported on much, but a researcher living in the outskirts of the capital had suddenly gone missing. When his apartment was searched, authorities had found strange magic devices, journals written in coded languages, and seemingly otherworldly objects everywhere. Whoever the researcher was (his name had been omitted from the papers Jeff managed to get his hands on) had seemingly been researching something forbidden, possibly even dangerous.

The next event was scarcely a week ago—the disappearance of a court couple’s son and one of Jeff’s childhood friends, Luke, had shaken the castle. A few days later the strange happenings continued with a shaken courier coming in, bruised and slightly bloody but otherwise _physically_ sound. Mentally was another story; there was a deep-seated panic within his eyes. Perhaps being a little too curious, Jeff had followed the courier from a distance upon his return. He was forbidden from entering the throne room, where the courier eventually entered, without explicit permission from his parents, but he could still eavesdrop upon the ensuing conversation from behind the big, old oak doors. He supposed that the rule was to keep him from hearing things he wasn’t ready (or supposed) to hear, as the throne room served as a place for important meetings. But curiosity tended to get the better of him, and after a bit of practice he had found the perfect angle to press his ear against the crack between the sturdy doors to hear any conversation inside. 

“—all the time, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Your majesty, if I may, these protestors seemed different. They didn't feel quite human, I suppose. And they were speaking of The Savior—“

“Nonsense!! The Savior’s spirit was locked away centuries ago by the members of this family. Now, leave me be. There are more important things to take care of than some country rally. The fire in...” he began to ramble on about things deemed more important. 

Jeff had jumped away from the doors as soon as he heard his father give the sharp dismissal, heading towards the kitchen. Going for a snack, he’d explain, if anyone asked him. Although the mention of the name The Savior really made him lose any appetite he might have. For a reason he couldn’t quite dictate, just _hearing_ the name put a sour taste in his mouth, like he’d heard something not meant to be heard by humans. 

More concerningly, there was little known on The Savior, or at least little _academic_ literature on it—after hearing the unfamiliar name Jeff had hunted the castle library for hours, trying and failing to find any kind of text on the entity. It seemed long-lasting lines of the Fabre monarchy had found themselves met with a terrible fate, aided by the hands of an unknown enemy. No one seemed to know what the spirit was, or how it even came to be—the only thing that anyone knew was that it was apparently set wreaking havoc across the capital city of Asagao. 

Driven by that awful feeling in his gut, Jeff returned to his search for information the next night. With the library stacks falling short of his expectations, he instead went to the family’s archives. It was a small, dark room with a single light swinging precariously from a thin, rusted lantern in the middle of the room, casting an orange glow onto stacks of dusty, mismatched papers. 

Unlike the library proper, full of recent academic texts and popular novels, the archives were 1) not consistently maintained and 2) full of personal accounts, journals, and documents about the past royal family lines, along with the history of NormalBlock and the Great War of Unification, which had happened some-odd centuries ago. 

And that was how he came to sort of understand The Savior. 

It was a spirit dating back to the Unification, the soul of a powerful and corrupt military figure who was slain in combat. The officer’s vengeful spirit lingered on, infecting people’s minds and getting him to do their bidding. In order to protect their people, mages from both sides of the conflict worked together to fragment the spirit, sealing parts of it away in several ‘relics’. To ensure that The Savior never returned, one relic was given to each area of the budding kingdom, with the largest piece of the spirit being stored in the royal crown. 

While that explained why followers of The Savior would come for the crown, it didn’t explain why The Savior was back. No matter how carefully he searched, Jeff found that the light of dawn accompanied his disappointment in the lack of information. Even the royal archives, full of the most personal and secret histories of centuries of rulers, had no information on how one would bring back The Savior. Or, why anyone would even want to bring so dangerous back, for that matter.

A tree branch snapped under his foot suddenly, in turn snapping him back to the situation at hand. There was no reason why he needed to relive all those memories at the moment, truthfully. Perhaps it was a sort of distraction, a way of ignoring how the ground underfoot seemed to sap a bit of his energy with each frantic step forward. His legs had long gone numb, and the fleeting chance of escape began to feel more and more distant. Having already been wounded by guards possessed by The Savior as he escaped the palace earlier, his strength had been incomplete from the beginning. Truthfully, it was a miracle in itself that he has escaped the castle. In the dark forest he couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of him, guided only by sparse patches of moonlight that broke in through the thick foliage. The sounds of armor clanking grew unpleasantly loud in his ears as Jeff began to lose speed, stumbling over stray roots and branches. 

Nevermind that, he had to focus on the crown. He had to _protect_ the crown. It had been the first thing The Savior had looked for, and it was undeniably so important to their mission. And, even if sentimentality didn’t have a place in situations of mortal peril, it was a piece of home—somewhere he almost certainly could never return to. 

Jeff knew there was trouble coming when a voice barked out nearly unintelligible orders. It was quickly followed by the unmistakable sound of bowstrings being drawn back, pulled as taut as every muscle in his body as it anticipated the snap and the inevitable pain awaiting him. The first shot only grazed along his lower leg, enough to tear through the fabric covering his shins and not much else. 

The second arrow struck him between the shoulder blades, sending a sharp bolt of pain down his spine. Fortunately, the canvas bag on his back absorbed a good amount of the blow, but the arrow had very much landed—and the wound seemed to pulse with each heavy footstep taken. 

Then, the arrows began to pour in at such a volume that even trying to dodge them would have been pointless. Jeff swore to some deity under his breath, grabbing the straps of the bag thrown over his shoulders as an unneeded precaution. He was entirely too paranoid about losing the crown, especially after everything he had done to keep it safe thus far. Said bag seemed to grow heavier every time he put his foot down, a constant reminder of how worn down he was. Of course, the guard following him moved in perfect formation, with perfect aim. They were a royal guard. That was their _job._ A single person didn’t stand a chance against just one of them, let alone a horde.

The scratches and slashes across his body were certainly innumerable, each new cut barely registering as every inch of his body bled together in a horrible mesh of exhausted agony. The near-oppressive darkness served as a blessing, keeping Jeff from seeing just how injured he really was. Finally, he gave in to the stressors being thrown onto him—his knees buckled and sent Jeff tumbling towards the ground. He barely managed to catch himself on his hands and knees, rolling onto his back almost immediately as to not expose the bag. Only then did he have a moment to fully contemplate his own mortality: with his vision swimming and a heavily armoured guard charging at him, the only thing Jeff had left to question about his death was what would cause it first.

Yet it seemed fate, as cruel and sadistic a mistress she was, was not yet done with Jeff. All his life he had thought himself the pampered cat with the loving owners, but he was quick to realize that he was actually the mouse on the string, dangling over the precipice of death with a single hand to anchor him. Even with his vision as unreliable as it was, he could still rely on every other sense—and it seemed that someone had come to his aid. The struggle, no matter how fruitless it was bound to be, wasn’t quite over.

A loud and decidedly inhuman shriek, something akin to an animal's cry of fury, pierced the air before a single arrow sailed across his vision and managed to strike the guard just feet away from Jeff at a gap on the side of his helmet. He fell like a sack of rocks, and Jeff knew that the sudden spray of something liquid on his face was not the start of a rain shower. Despite how impressive the shot was, there was no time to think about it (let alone be rightfully disgusted, or wonder how the shooter knew where the little gap on the helmets was, and to aim there) at that moment. There was the sound of wings flapping, and another, even _higher_ pitched cry before a starburst of flames lit up the area for just a few moments, giving him a hazy-at-best glance at his surroundings. 

Standing what couldn’t have been more than fifteen feet from Jeff was who he assumed to be his savior—a tall figure with a long face, concealed in a dark, greenish-black cloak with the hood drawn. His narrowed eyes glinted in the firelight as much as the quiver of arrows on his back or the silvery bow held tightly in one hand, the other reaching for another arrow. His motions seemed slowed, perhaps an effect of the exhausted daze Jeff was in. In the hazy light, another, shadowy figure seemed to trail not close behind, so faint that Jeff would have thought them a figment of his exhaustion if not for the deep violet aura around them. He was refocused, however, as reality began to move at a normal pace again, and members of the Royal Guard appeared. As they were closing in on all sides, another high pitched cry reverberated and without warning, the nearby trees had all been set ablaze. 

In the ensuing chaos, a particularly smart (or perhaps, reckless?) guard used the opening to charge at Jeff, knocking him back to the ground with a single blow. They rolled across the ground, finally coming to a halt as Jeff’s head collided with the side of a large tree. If his vision wasn’t swimming before, it _certainly_ was now. Fear welled up in his chest as the guard forced Jeff onto his stomach, opening the bag and emptying its contents into his greedy hands. He knew he was far too weak to throw the guard off or reach back for the crown. The nausea-inducing fear mixed with anger, perhaps sadness, to create a bitter taste in his mouth as said guard laughed—equal parts triumphant and mocking—and Jeff’s bag suddenly felt a whole lot lighter. 

Above him, Jeff could see the treetops being engulfed in flames. The orange light cast across the forest gave the foliage a surreal glow, as if this was all just a horrible nightmare and not _real life._ Crackling embers began flying off of branches in all directions, hitting other trees to spark other fires and falling to the damp ground to sizzle out in the moisture. The spread of the fire created a new problem to replace the presence of the Royal Guard, who seemed to be retreating from the flames now that they had their precious crown back. Jeff immediately had a fleeting return of his previous mortality crisis. Maybe this was how he would die instead, slowly engulfed by flames?

“Prince? Prince Fabre?” A voice emerged through the flames, tinged with concern. It was not the voice of a guard—it lacked the authoritative, emotionless rumble that he was so accustomed to. Jeff attempted to sit up and found that to be almost too much for him, the blazing forest spinning as his equilibrium shifted dramatically. He grabbed desperately at the bark of the tree behind him, slowly pulling himself to his feet as he turned his head towards the source of the voice. Soft bark peeled under his hands, sticking under his nails and snapping off the tree trunk as he scraped his way to a standing position, Finally, the same hooded person from earlier came dashing into view, still very much on alert. For a moment, Jeff swore he could spot a pair of metallic wings hovering near the stranger’s head before disappearing into the air. 

“Call me Jeff,” he muttered back weakly, not daring to stay more than an arms length away from the tree he’d shakily stepped away from. “I’m not a prince anymore.” The stranger opened their mouth to say something—probably along the lines of _Why the hell are you giving up so easily?_ or _Is this really the time to correct me on that?_ —before closing it again and changing topics. 

“Well, not-Prince Jeff, you need to get the heck out of this forest before it burns down, or those guards come back. I’m gonna take you to the Inn. I dunno how you ended up here, but you’ll be safe there. I _think_ .” The speaker’s hesitance was unnerving, but what other choice did Jeff have? Burning to death and bleeding out in this dark forest? Or worse yet, wandering for days as his injuries slowly claimed his body, starving and cold and _alone?_

They both seemed like viable options, truth be told. Without the crown, Jeff was almost certain that he was as good as dead. There would be no way to restore himself or any semblance of order without proof that he was from the royal line. He didn’t know _why_ The Savior wanted the crown so badly, assuming they already had another relic, but if they were willing to kill his entire family to get it…

If the crown was just another pawn in their game, then it would certainly create violence. With a shudder, Jeff tried to suppress horribly violent memories—screams of servants and family members alike, all the same in death; creeping along hallways with a bloodied crown held in his hands, the one he had stolen off of his father's body. He wasn’t quite sure why the insurgents hadn’t just taken the crown off of his head, but Jeff didn’t have the willpower to question anything anymore as the gravity of the situation fell on him, uninvited.

The stranger tugged on his hand, and Jeff stumbled forwards, barely able to hold himself upright as he walked. He cleared his throat weakly, grimacing as he became aware of the taste of blood somewhere in the back of his throat. The crackling of the fire spreading behind him slowly faded from a suffocating roar to a pleasant, albeit hazy ambient noise. For a moment, it sounded almost like a campfire, one where he could sit and tell stories with his friends and stare at the stars in awe. 

A sudden scream, definitely a woman’s, startled both him and the stranger. It came from somewhere behind them, definitely far off, and was laced with absolute terror. They looked at each other for a moment, eyes wide, before the stranger shook his head no. 

“Shouldn’t we go see what that was?” Jeff asks, jerking his head towards the direction of the sound. 

“Even if we should, you’re in no shape to,” the stranger pointed out. He was right—the further he tried to walk, the more Jeff felt his body giving out _for real._ His world had quickly became a kaleidoscope as he stumbled forward, feet beginning to drag along the thick grass underfoot. 

The first time his knees buckled, the stranger gasped and responded with lightning-fast reflexes, getting an arm under Jeff’s and keeping him from falling down. The arrows in his quiver jostled as he caught Jeff, making a strange noise as they collided. It didn’t sound as if the arrows were made entirely of wood—the clicking sounds they made were far too loud. Once making sure that he wasn’t going to collapse again, the stranger’s arm had wrapped around his shoulders. It bothered Jeff more than it probably should have—he didn’t want nor did he need pity from this mysterious, hooded man. 

More like, he didn’t want to inconvenience him. Or put him in more danger should the former guard return to claim another royal head for their collection. A million questions raced through his head—namely, who was this stranger, and how did he find him? He clearly wasn’t another royal, or anyone powerful for that matter. Both the bow on his back and the daggers sheathed in leather at his side, untouched, lacked the decorative emblems or design elements that signified wealth or power. However, the stranger’s cloak bore an oddly silky texture, a fine material that seemed out of place on a rogue wandering the woods. Perhaps he had stolen it, or it belonged to a family member?

“I can walk, I’m fine,” Jeff shot back, weakly shrugging off the arm. “You should keep an eye out for anything dangerous.” Whether or not he admitted it, the scream from moments ago startled him badly.

“There are arrows sticking out of you. I don’t think that means you’re _fine,”_ the stranger shot back. Jeff grimaced, knowing that he was right. Everything he’d ever been taught said to not remove objects that pierced the skin to reduce bleeding in the event of a stab wound, and so he hadn’t tried to remove any of the arrows that successfully lodged themselves into his body, and stayed there through the chaos. 

“Are we far from Asagao—from the capital?” Jeff asked, reaching for anything that would break the uncomfortable silence. Anything to hide the fact that he felt like falling over and dying. For some godforsaken reason, he felt compelled to project his internal belief that everything was okay, that he would be fine. A belief he knew was completely wrong. The stranger looked at him in disbelief, before laughing at him instead. 

“Yea. We’re, uh...no more than a thirty minute walk away from Bluebell Town.” They explained. One of a number of small towns known collectively as the Flower Towns, Bluebell Town was normally a half-day’s journey from Asagao on foot. Jeff really must have been running fast to travel so far, or otherwise lost all sense of time in his flight. 

It was then that Jeff stumbled for the second time, causing the stranger to hoist him up again and refuse to let go, even when Jeff pushed at his shoulders and demanded that he walk on his own. 

“Jeff, you look like a zombie. Stop telling me you’re fine to walk. I know you nobles pride yourselves on being strong, but this is ridiculous.” The stranger grumbled. Jeff would admit, he had a point, but not a point he would readily admit aloud. And so Jeff, perhaps a bit _too_ stubborn for his own good, perhaps a bit too self-sacrificing, had insisted on trying to walk on his own anyways. 

But despite his efforts, the third time his knees buckled, Jeff was unconscious before he hit the forest floor. 


	2. strange new place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> austin meets a few unfamiliar faces, and jeff learns a few unfamiliar things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am posting this at 3:45 in the morning and i start class tomorrow because i got really excited to write, and here we are

Austin paced restlessly across the room he’d rented, glaring at the unconscious prince...person... _human_ he’d rescued every ten seconds. Somehow, he had convinced himself that incessant staring would make Jeff suddenly wake up. He honestly hadn’t been too concerned with thought that the guy might never wake up again, but as the sun bled out on the horizon and night put the last slivers of fever-pink and bruise-green daylight to rest, his worries awoke alongside the moon. The prince dying would be quiet the issue for many reasons, including a lot of political turmoil and probably a civil war but also, Austin’s bank account. Lodging for two wasn’t exactly cheap, and a local dragon trainer like himself didn’t make incredible sums of money.

_A watched pot never boils,_ he heard his brother’s voice tell him. _What would he think of me getting rescuing a prince?_ _Would he be proud?_ Austin vaguely wondered, tapping his foot on the worn wooden floor of the inn’s room. He could practically hear the scolding— _You have better things to do than get involved with other people’s affairs. This kind of immaturity just proves you’re not ready for the real world,_ usually followed by some degree of _Remember, I’m only looking out for you. I know what’s best for you, okay?_

What a ridiculous thought to be dwelling on. His brother was long gone, missing, disappeared, and as good as dead. And it was probably all his own fault, too. Austin never been allowed much insight into his work, something that Mcjones had insisted was for Austin’s safety. Austin obviously didn’t know much of what he did besides research on a being called the Savior, but he highly doubted it was so dangerous that he couldn’t even learn a _little._ His brother even had a working partner! And it wasn’t Austin! Austin had never even been allowed to meet him, actually. So of course, he had to go and do something dangerous while nobody would have any idea where he went or where to look for him. 

Perhaps it was wrong to harbor bitter feelings towards a family member who was probably in a less than pleasant situation, but it came as a natural response. Call it arrogance or what-have-you, but at least a little part of Austin wished he had been allowed to learn about his brother’s work. He was an adult. He could have done something to keep him safe, he told himself. But no, his brother had to be protective and selfish to a fault. If only he’d been able to realize that Austin was more than the incompetent, scared kid he always thought him—maybe, just _maybe,_ he wouldn’t be wherever the _hell_ he was now.

A quiet knock on the door startled Austin, who tore his unfocused eyes from the unconscious prince to open it. There stood the Innkeeper’s daughter, Hana, a petite girl with short waves of pink hair and black-framed glasses. She was dressed in a hooded, white coat, lined with warm fur, a white skirt and deep red shirt poking out from underneath, and tall white boots with black woolen stockings underneath. As per usual, a faded red ribbon held her hair back from her face, and a little, corked vial holding a single, blue-violet petal in water swing around her neck from a faded silver chain. She held an iron lantern emitting a dim glow in one hand, and balanced a tray with an old copper tea kettle and mismatched cups atop the other. 

“How’s he doing?” She asked immediately, standing on her tiptoes as she tried to look over Austin’s shoulder. She’d been in charge for the night when Austin, barely awake himself, had brought the unconscious prince in and attempted to string together some semblance of a coherent explanation. He was grateful for their long-lasting friendship: most people probably would have turned him away as he blabbered on about magic and murders. Especially after the sudden death of her mother, Hana and her broken father had been more uptight about security in the Inn. Austin sent another glance back to the noble in question before shrugging at Hana.

“I have no idea, honestly. He’s been asleep all day.”

“Oh…” she mused, biting the inside of her lip in a vague expression of nervousness. “Um, well...there’s a couple people in the Tavern who want to speak with you,” she said softly. Normally that kind of ambiguity would put Austin on edge, but he’d stayed in the Bluebell Inn enough to know that Hana was both an open book and a trusted friend. She physically wouldn’t be able to send him somewhere dangerous without betraying it in her eyes. “Could you spare a few minutes? They...they don’t seem hostile. The bar is crowded, so if they try anything you can always just...yell….” Austin shot a hesitant glance behind him, biting the inside of his lip as he weighed his options. Finally, he sighed, nodding at Hana.

“If someone comes to check on _him_ , that’s fine. I just feel bad for the poor guy, y’know?” Hana made a face, nodding in agreement.

“I hope he’ll be alright.” She sighed, the lantern in her hand swinging slightly. “I’ll come up and check on him as soon as I have the chance. You should be able to find the people looking for you at the bar. They’re, um...they’re kind of hard to miss!” Austin nodded. Cool. Some strangers coming to speak to him right after he saved a prince from some murderous guards and an all-powerful being wasn’t enough. They had to be _weird_ strangers, too.

He closed the door behind him, watching for a moment as Hana’s lamp drifted down the hallway, taking most of the light with it. The walls had small sconces placed next to each door, but the light the provided dulled in comparison to a well-lit lamp. Austin lit the thick, deep red candle on the table between the room’s two beds before leaving. On the off-chance that Jeff did wake up soon, he didn’t want him to be in a pitch-black room when he did so. 

Austin locked the door behind him before making his way to the staircase, where he was immediately greeted with the familiar smell of food and the amiable, dull roar of the bargoers’ chatter. Vaguely, and with the help of a few protests of his stomach, it dawned on him that he hadn’t eaten yet that day, too preoccupied with watching Jeff. The wooden staircase creaked slightly with each step, the boards shifting as he descended. From the second to last-step, positioned in the back right corner of the warm-toned room, he scanned the tavern until a pair of people caught his eye. True to Hana’s word, they were seated at the bar, and they—well, _one_ of them—were particularly easy to spot. Perhaps the tan and gold armor gave them away? The one closer to him, with the gold armor, sat with his back away from Austin, but he would have been hard-pressed not to notice _mask_ covering the bottom half of the face he could see. As he approached, Austin could tell that the center part was some kind of stiff, dark grey fabric, but the sides were made of small tubes of metal or a similar material, disappearing behind the hood pulled over the stranger’s head.

“So you’re the guy?” For someone whose mouth was covered, the stranger’s voice carried. It didn’t match what he could see of the stranger’s outward appearance at all, and it caught Austin off guard for a moment before he nodded, stopping in between the two barstools and staring awkwardly between the two people waiting for him. The two looked out of place in the small town bar, filled mostly with townsfolk in their casual dress. Comparatively, the people Austin was meeting were completely clad in armor, carrying their weapons with them as if they’d just stepped off of a battlefield. Especially the one on the left, with the strange mask: Austin realized that the dull clinking sounds he had heard weren’t scraped of cutlery, it was the sound of the stranger’s gauntlets as he tapped his fingers against the deep crimson edge of the sword lying across his lap. Visibly, he was infinitely more restless than his companion, but neither of them looked particularly relaxed. They both wore glasses as well, something relatively uncommon. Most people didn’t have the resources to get glasses, even if their eyes began to fail them, and it wasn’t very common that people needed glasses to begin with. 

“You should sit down,” the other stranger suggested, swinging an empty stool around from behind him with surprising agility, narrowly missing Austin’s side. “We’ve gotta explain some things. Name’s Ray, by the way.”

“Dean,” the first stranger responded, pushing back the hood that had obscured part of his face and pulling off the ridiculously armored, tan-colored gauntlets. He curled and uncurled his fingers, protected by the metal gauntlets by thin black gloves, cracking his knuckles against the uneven wood of the bar. Finally, he pulled the stiff fabric of the mask covering the lower half of his face down. It didn’t seem like the mask _came off_ at all, but it sat rolled under his chin well enough. Up close, he could see that Dean’s armor was much more _worn_ than Ray’s, whose gold color still held a faint shimmer. It made him look important, almost noble, whereas the assorted scratches and discoloration that could only have come from direct combat, magic, and fire damage in Dean’s armor instantly painted him as a fighter. That, and the massive, red-edged blade balanced across his legs.

“...Austin.” He quickly replied, taking a hesitant seat down. “Uh, I...I don’t really understand what’s going on. Is there news about my brother or something? I’ve never seen either of you before. Am I in trouble?”

“Brother?” Dean questioned almost immediately. A strange look crossed his face for a moment, halfway between recognition and regret, before he shook his head no. “I have no idea who your brother is. We’re here because of the Prince.”

“Dean. Keep your voice down, man,” Ray quickly commented, and Dean rolled his eyes. Nevertheless, he continued speaking at a much quieter volume. “We, or I guess _I_ heard that the Savior killed his family. I need to talk to him.”

“He’s still unconscious,” Austin pointed out. “And I don’t know if he’ll even _want_ to talk about what happened. And even if you want to, what about Ray? Why’s he here?” A strange note of accusation made its way into his tone. Perhaps it was because he’d already saved the guy’s life once, but he couldn’t help feeling somewhat responsible for Jeff’s safety until he was back on his feet. Or, there was a much more reasonable explanation: he was haunted by the fact that he couldn’t do anything to help McJones, and didn’t want anyone else to fall victim to horrors unknown because of his incompetence. Even if he knew that realistically, his brother’s stubborn refusal to tell Austin (or anyone else) _anything_ were ultimately what got him into trouble, his stubborn mind would certainly find a way to turn it back around on himself.

“I’m kinda cursed,” Ray admitted, dragging Austin back to reality. In fact, he said it so casually that Austin almost didn’t realize the _weight_ of his statement. “It’s a long story, but I need to complete some tasks—think Hercules but a lot less cool—so that I don’t die a horribly painful death before the end of the year.” He offered a not at all optimistic smile, shrugging.

“I...I see?” Austin said, unsure of how to reply. It seems kind of rude to ask someone he’s known for all of five minutes how the got cursed. “Well, I can't—“

“So you are the one who saved me last night? I was hoping to see you somewhere.” Austin jumped like the voice behind him had poked his side, and swung around almost immediately. It seemed the Prince had finally woken up, as he was now standing in front of the trio with a look of mock anger on his face, holding that bag Austin had seen him carrying last night in one hand.

It was the first time Austin had really _seen_ him, and he was surprised by just how much of a presence he had. Maybe it was because he’d only ever seen Jeff half-conscious and struggling to stay upright, but he had seemed so much smaller when he’d been leaning against Austin on their way to the Inn, and weighed next to nothing when he eventually fainted. Austin wouldn’t consider himself strong, either. Something between the easy, confident smile he presented and the paneled, forest green, short-sleeved cape draped over his shoulders gave him an appropriate air of nobility. 

“Hello,” he added, noting the two sitting on either side of Austin and staring at him with dumbfounded faces. “I am the... _former_ prince of the Fabre family, Jeff. Nice to meet you, I suppose?” Immediately, two things about him caught Austin off guard. First of all, the way he spoke was rather formal, even for meeting strangers. Second, and even more off-putting, was his absolute nonchalance about being on death’s doorstep less than twenty-four hours ago. 

“I’m glad to see you’re alive,” Austin responded. “This is Ray and Dean, they told me they have a few questions about the Savior? If that’s okay? Hana...uh, the Innkeeper’s daughter, don’t think you remember her—she’s a friend of mine. She sent ‘em to me.” Jeff paled for a moment, and the half-smile on his face dropped at the corners.

“Oh. That...that would be fine. It would be better to talk in a more secluded area, though. I do not want anyone to know who I am. I also must warn you, I do not know how many answers I can provide.” There was a near-palpable level of hesitance in his voice, and Austin gave him an apologetic glance. At least, he hoped it looked apologetic. The four of them quickly agreed on speaking in the room Austin had rented, and so they made their way around the edge of the tavern, carefully skirting the overflow of patrons at handmade wooden tables.

“Thank you, by the way. I am quite serious.” Jeff said quietly, tapping the back of Austin’s arm. “I do not have the faintest idea as to why you were in those woods last night, but I am really, very grateful that you were.”

“Coincidence,” Austin merely offered. He had been spending a few days in Asagao, checking around all of McJones’s old haunts in case he had disappeared to one of them. Even though the ransacked rooms, broken windows and doors blown off their hinges, the signs of struggle carved into every inch of the apartment and the torn-apart notebooks told Austin what he needed to know, he still held onto a spider’s thread of hope; tied it around his wrist and hoped it would lead him back to its host. He’d recognized the Savior’s symbol on the banners hanging from the troops that processed through the once-peaceful streets of the inner capital from sketches tacked up around his brother’s apartment, and had put two and two together once he saw smoke starting to rise from the castle. He hadn’t even been looking for Jeff in particular—he’d been trying to get out of the city and as far away as he could in case someone caught an unlikely resemblance between him and McJones and pulled him away, too.

  
  
  
  


“Before you ask any questions, may I ask one?”Jeff asked, setting his bag down on the floor and rummaging through it. “Austin. You saw the guards tackle me, right? I do not understand, but I still have—” he pulls something gold and vaguely circular out of the bag—”this.” He waves the object around so frantically that it takes Austin a few moments to even realize what it is: the royal crown. It’s a lot smaller than he thought it was, truthfully, and it also looks a little bloodstained at the moment, but there’s no denying what it is. “I know for a fact that someone took this from me, so what on _Earth_ is going on.” Jeff stops waving the crown around, and sets it on the table against the back wall of the room gently.

“Let me see that bag for a sec,” Ray extended his hand. There was a noticeable lack of inquisition in his voice, replaced with a hint of confusion, if anything. Jeff looked at him for a moment, eyes narrowing as if he didn’t quite trust the other, before handing it over rather roughly. The metal clasps on the straps clicked against each other, and Austin briefly caught sight of a small, greenish emblem on the front panel. He suspected it was the royal crest, a sign he had seen more than a few times growing up in Outer Asagao. It was a shield shape, outlined in gold, with opposing corners colored white and the same shade of green as the cloak Jeff wore. There was an ouroboros circling a small golden cross in the center, and the family motto written across a banner on the bottom: _Virtus est Fortum_. Courage is strength. He’d heard it a million times from everyone around him. 

Ray stuck his hand in the bag rather nonchalantly, clearly poking around the bottom as if searching for something. Austin could see it, actually, small grooves apparently in the canvas bottom where his fingers laid, until suddenly there was a small click, a little _whoosh_ , and then his hand wasn’t there at all.

“Did you not know there was a void seal in this?” Ray asked, sounding a little incredulous. He pulled his hand out of the bag, revealing that it certainly was _still there,_ and held the bag by the top flap. 

“A—a _what?”_ Jeff grabbed the bag back, as if he’d been offended, holding it open with one hand and staring into it. Slowly, the expression on his face changed from irritation to confusion, jaw dropping, eyebrows furrowed together. 

“What is going _on_ here?” He turned the bag out towards the other three, revealing that it was no longer much of a bag at all. Rather, it seemed to be the gateway to an endless, lightless expanse, almost like a black hole: so dark and deep that no light reflected out of it whatsoever.

“It’s a void seal,” Ray repeated, as if it were the simplest concept in existence. His arms were crossed now. “You really didn’t know you had it? You’ve gotta get real close to a Void Mage to have one of those placed properly. They make false bottoms in...well, anything that can be used to carry other things. Basically: there's a little button on the side of your bag, you can close and open the seal with that.” Of course, a void mage. Hailing from one of Galactica, the Northeastern kingdom of NormalBlock, they were highly trained mages with an uncanny ability to summon voids and use the power of nothingness. Jeff had heard that their training was almost unworldly, and as such, Void Mages were incredibly hard to come across. Galactica was famed for the Void, a black-hole like expanse across the middle of its territory formed when ancient alchemists tried to revive a fallen king. The final test of becoming a Void Mage, or so Jeff has heard, was to enter the Void itself, and survive. 

“Please, explain to me how that works.” Jeff looked like he was almost pleading, a desperate confusion etched onto his face. There was no reason for a Void Mage to be anywhere _but_ Galactica: the further away they got, the less control they had over their incredibly dangerous powers. 

“It attaches a personal void to the bottom of the bag. Things in the void can’t be taken out unless the void is closed.” Ray explained. It was a sensible explanation, given the powers of a Void Mage, but it was still mind-boggling that Jeff had been so close to a Void Mage and had never even seen them. 

Following his explanation, Jeff pressed the button almost immediately. The little _whoosh_ and click from earlier repeated themselves, and then—the bottom of the bag was completely visible once more. He dropped the bag suddenly, as if it had burned him, the canvas hitting the wooden floor with a soft swoosh. It remained there, crumpled up with eight eyes staring at it expectantly, as if waiting for the bag to suddenly sprout legs and start talking. At this point, Jeff wouldn’t even have the capability to be surprised by that. 

“Sorry. It seems I am still a little jumpy,” Jeff finally broke the weird silence, picking up the bag and setting it down on the unmade bed behind him. “I cannot understand this, though. I know that there was something taken from this bag. There is no reasonable explanation as to why I still have _this._ ” He gestured angrily to the crown, sitting off to the side like a discarded toy.

“I am aware that a strong enough void mage can create a replica of something they have seen,” Jeff reasoned aloud. “But I do not believe any lived in the castle, nor would one have been able to follow me for so long. They all live in Galactica, around the Void.”

“You were probably being followed,” Dean finally chimed in. “Besides, it’s impossible that a _few_ haven’t drifted out, I don’t think—

“Wait wait wait. What about that woman we heard?” Austin cut Dean off in a moment of realization, turning to Jeff with wide eyes. He took a moment, trying to sift through the chaos of yesterday before remembering the faint scream he and Austin had heard as the forest started burning. “I was alone the entire time I was following you, though.” He frowned, apparently just as confused as the Jeff. 

“You were not.” Jeff quickly interrupted. He really had thought he was seeing things, but the amalgamation of deep purple sparks lingering behind Austin as he first saw him was too vaguely human-shaped. Maybe it meant nothing, or maybe it meant everything, but there was no harm in addressing it. 

“Wha—”

“I assumed I was seeing things, but I saw something behind you for a moment.” Jeff crossed his arms, then made a weird motion in the air with his hands. “It was kind of...shimmering? Purpley. It was dark, I was not able to see it all that well.”

“That’s a void mage if I’ve ever seen one.” Dean was nearly laughing. “You really didn’t notice someone following you through a forest? The most obvious fucking place to hear footsteps?”

“I was a little _preoccupied!”_ Austin shot back, mildly offended. Jeff felt a chill of horror under her skin—that woman was very likely dead, or seriously injured, if the guard had caught her like he did suspected. Maybe, if he had called out to her and Austin, the night would have ended differently? Maybe, he wouldn’t have the blood of a stranger on his hands as he sat, safe and relatively unharmed, in a quaint little inn far from the epicenter of chaos. 

“..Fair enough. But, what now? We’ve got no mage, and no leads.” He started tapping his fingers on the hilt of the sword, making the same clicking Austin had heard in the bar. Quickly, it was drowned out by a series of quiet knocks on the door. Immediately, the four exchanged concerned looks, before the doorknob began to rattle, the lock eventually turning into the unlocked position with a scraping noise and a loud click. Jeff didn’t miss how Dean’s hand settled on the handle of his sword immediately, and he scrambled to grab the crown behind him and throw it haphazardly into the canvas bag. 

“Hi, I was just coming to check on—oh, Prince Fabre! You’re awake!” Hana beamed from the other side of the door, unaware of the panic she had accidentally just caused. The little candle within her lantern had diminished noticeably. A once-great flame now sputtered among the small pool of molten wax at the bottom of the slightly rusted frame, and the wick had begun to bend under its own weight. Shadows had begun to appear under her eyes, darkened by the low level of lighting surrounding the five. 

“If you’re alright, I’ll leave! I just need to let you know that quiet hours are starting soon. A lot of patrons are going to bed, so noise isn’t really welcome. But you’re free to talk in the bar as long as you need!” She offered a cheery smile, even as her words sounded over-delivered, exhausted. She was worn out. The stress of knowing who was hiding away within her inn had probably been sitting like rocks in the back of her skull all day. 

With an exchanging of quiet _goodnights_ , Hana left as quickly as she had arrived, locking her door behind her as she did. Jeff let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, trying to resume where they had been in their conversation earlier. 

“Sorry, I am struggling to really _remember_ a lot of yesterday. I need time to collect my thoughts.” He offered. Trying to piece together his life was like trying to do a puzzle, if all the pieces were the same color. He _knew_ that everything connected somehow, and would form a clear picture when connected, but he had no idea where to start connecting the pieces, or how to even differentiate between them and sort them out to better process them. 

“That’s fair. Why don’t we meet again tomorrow morning? That should give you some time to think,” Ray offered. “We’re here for the night, anyways.”

“I would appreciate that,” Jeff nodded. “Thank you for understanding.”

“It’s not a big deal, dude. Anyone would be a little shaken up after what you went through.” Jeff didn’t respond. 

  
  
  


“Jeff, you’re so...formal. It’s weird!” Austin was leaning out of the inn window, seeming to be searching the sky for something. The breeze that blew in past him was chilly, but it didn’t seem to affect him much, if at all. He’d been standing there for a few minutes, just leaning out as if expecting a star to fall into his hands. Every now and then he’d whistle, or wave his arm around, but he didn’t seem to be getting whatever results he was looking for. 

“Formal?” Jeff asked. He had spent the past ten minutes turning the crown over in his hands, still in disbelief. He briefly entertained the possibility that it was a fake, but no. He had been taught very meticulously how to tell the real crown apart from any fakes based on certain qualities of the material and shaping, and he knew for a fact that it was genuine. 

“Yea, like...you talk like this to every person that you interact with. You are very stiff with your words and posture,” Austin said, putting on a poor impression. He had an arm out now, bracing his weight on the windowsill with one hand. 

“I...I have no comment. I have been taught to speak a certain way.” He offered. If anything, Austin and everyone around him spoke strangely. He wasn’t used to hearing so many contractions, or sweating of any kind. In the castle, those things were seen as improper and severely frowned upon, occasionally even punishable offenses. 

“You should relax! Besides, everyone’s gonna know you’re noble if you act so proper all the time.” Austin was laughing. Faintly, Jeff noted that his laugh was really pleasant to listen to. That was another thing the castle lacked in: laughter. Of course, there was polite laughter over fool’s jokes and political discussions, but very rarely were there genuine bouts of the side-burning laughter he had read about. 

“Oh, there they are. It’s about time.” Austin said quietly, leaning a little further out of the window. A light breeze probably could have knocked him to his death. 

“They?” Jeff asked, although Austin didn’t seem to hear him. There was another faint bout of laughter, before Austin pulled his head back in from the window, accompanied by two...dragons? Jeff rubbed his eyes, as if they were playing tricks on him. No, there were certainly two dragons in his field of view. One, a pure, milky white flew around Austin’s head, making soft chirping noises, while the other, bearing scales as dark night rested on his extended forearm. 

“This is Luka and Azura,” he smiled. Azura’s the black one, and Luka’s the white one. They’re, uh...they’re kind of my pets, I suppose. I raise dragons at home,” he explained. Jeff clambered down from his bed in quite possibly the least elegant motion he’d ever done, and padded across the room’s worn down, hand-woven carpet, straight to Austin. He had never seen dragons in person, although he suspected that the shiny things he saw in the air around Austin, or the things that set the _forest on fire_ must have been his dragons. 

“I have never seen a dragon before…” Jeff said, awe in his voice. Austin laughed, extending his arm a little further forward as if there was a small bird on his arm rather than a beast capable of destruction and manslaughter. 

“Well, here’s your chance! Go on, they don’t bite too hard,” he laughed. Up close, Jeff could see small circular scars on Austin’s hand and forearms that seemed to argue with his words. Nonetheless, Jeff slowly moved a (slightly trembling) hand towards the creature, holding it a safe distance away to let it get acquainted with him as he had been taught to do with dogs and horses. It looked up at him, blinking with emerald-green eyes that were eerily similar in color to Austin’s. Azura, that was the black one, seemed much more relaxed, or perhaps than tired, than Luka, who was still flying excited circles around Austin. Azura’s wings began to unfold for a moment, before it settled itself in Austin’s arm and made a noise not unlike the chirping that Luka was making. It was lower in pitch, and a bit smoother, kind of resembling a cat’s purr. 

“That means she likes you,” Austin said. Even though his smile was relaxed, Jeff could see in his stance that he was prepared to move his arm _very quickly_ if Azura decided she _didn’t_ like Jeff after all. Putting his faith in the other’s words, he let a very cautious finger trail along the back of the dragon’s head, keeping his hand very much out of reach of any sharp teeth or claws. The strange purring increased in volume, and Azura closed her eyes, her head tilting back towards the touch. God, they really were just very reptilian cats, weren’t they? He had to admit, it was strangely adorable. 

“Are all dragons this smooth?” He asked, still lightly touching the back of Azura’s head. Her scales were amazingly smooth, almost soft, save for the soft dips where the scales met each other. In every depiction of a dragon he’d ever seen, they were massive beasts lined with scars, spikes, and rough scales that spat fire on entire kingdoms. 

“Well, it depends on their age and breed,” Austin explained. “The little ones, like these guys, tend to be softer, their rough scales grow in as they get earlier. Not all of the dragons have spikes either! Azura’s a Galactan Nightwing, they never grow scales, they’ve been bred more for speed and stealth than defense. Luka, though, she’s a Crystalian Snaketongue, so she’ll probably get her first spikes in a few years—“ Austin began to ramble a little more about different dragon breeds, how they different how different dragons had been bred for certain characteristics like speed or defensive potential. Truthfully, Jeff was only half listening, still impressed that dragons could even _have_ different breedings and typings. Even though Jeff couldn’t pretend to understand half of what he said, Austin’s enthusiasm spread like wildfire, and Jeff wholeheartedly enjoyed listening to him talk on and on. He’d have to ask him to clarify a lot of things he said when his brain didn’t feel like absolute _mush_. 

“Most people just know about the Higanbana Reds—those are the ones you see in tapestries and paintings. They’re pretty scary, they can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. But a lot of dragons get a bad rep because of them. They can be pretty affectionate, see?” Luka had eventually settled down, yawning (dragons could _yawn?!_ ) before resting herself on Austin’s shoulder, wings folded down neatly. Down her back, Jeff could see a line of greyish spots, and he wondered if that was where her spikes would eventually grow in. Mirroring his dragons, Austin yawned, covering his mouth with the forearm not currently supporting a dragon. 

“Sorry, ‘m exhausted,” he said, still mid yawn. Jeff shrugged. He understood a little of what Austin meant about him being ‘stiff’ as he watched him move, his posture rather relaxed as he carefully closed the window, leaving a couple inches of open space to keep the room from becoming too stuffy overnight. As Austin moved, he realized that Azura had actually fallen asleep on his forearm while Jeff’s hand was on her back. Something about that fact was oddly adorable. He could get used to dragons in his life, perhaps. 

After closing the window, Austin set down the dragons—Azura first, then Luka, on the table near the window. He treated them delicately, as if they were made out of glass, carefully shifting them and making sure their wings had folded properly before stepping away from them. Jeff watched them for a few more moments, hypnotized by the slow rise and fall of their backs and the occasional flutter of their wings or twitch of their tails. Did dragons dream, too?

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” Austin must have noticed his staring, Jeff realized, and he laughed faintly. 

“Very. Was that casual enough for you?” He looked up and over at Austin, who rolled his hazel-green eyes. 

“It’s hard to tell with just one word,” he responded, falling onto his bed with a _whump._ “I’m going to bed. I’m freakin’ exhausted, jeez.”

“Do not forget, we are supposed to meet Ray and Dean tomorrow morning.” Jeff reminded Austin, who nodded into a pillow with a muffled groan. 

“Right, right. I’ll be up. Just yell or something if I’m not, I’ll wake right up.” For some reason, that did Jeff in. He started laughing, sitting down in his own bed and staring over at Austin as he found himself unable to stop laughing. He wasn't quite sure what was so funny about the situation, but there was something vaguely _freeing_ about being able to laugh so _freely._

“What’s so funny?” Austin asked, sounding halfway between offended and asleep. He held one of the spare pillows to his chest, almost childlike in a way. 

“I have never met a person like you, Austin Hargrave.”

“...Goodnight, Jeff.” Austin snorted before blowing out the candle on the table between their beds. 

“And a good night to you too.” Jeff didn’t think he would be able to sleep, but there was no harm in trying. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really said (exposition time) with this one now didn’t i....i hope you enjoyed!!  
> thank you for reading!!


	3. the first of many

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dean is suspicious, ray is vaguely suspicious, and austin is confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow it really took me two months to do this....lol f in chat for my writing speed

The following morning dawned rather bright and sunny, a welcome shift from the past few days of overcast haziness. Thanks to his sixteen-plus hours of sleep the previous night, Jeff found himself awake at the crack of dawn, staring right over Austin’s sleeping form and into slivers of orange that reached him through the thick trees outside. Even the dragons were still asleep, their smooth scales reflecting the brightly colored light around the room like little kaleidoscopes. Jeff amused himself with the pattern on the ceiling and walls for a few minutes, mesmerized by the slow motion reflecting the synchronized breathing of the two dragons. Finally, Azura woke up, blinking her vibrant green eyes open with a yawn (the cutest noise, he decided), and he took that as his cue to wake up as well. 

True to his word, Austin was still sound asleep. Jeff tiptoed over to the window. Outside, the town had begun its daily activities: merchants were putting the final touches on their daily displays, and children in school uniforms ran down the dirt street. He couldn’t help but fall transfixed by the strange normalcy for a minute or two before greeting the wide-eyed Azura with a quiet  _ good morning  _ and opening the window. Jeff hoped that either the creaking of the old wooden frame or the noises drifting in from outside would wake Austin up so he didn’t have to. He felt weird about just...waking him up. Like it was rude, something that he shouldn’t be doing even though Austin had explicitly asked him to. But there was no such luck. After stopping for a moment to pat Azura on the head, to which she happily chirped, he turned around to find that Austin was still  _ very much _ asleep. Azura chirped impatiently, clearly expecting him to be awake soon.

Jeff sighed, walking over to the far side of the bed so that Austin was facing him, and cleared his throat. 

“Austin? It is morning.” It was hard to whisper so early, and his voice came out scratchy. He waved his hand in front of Austin’s face,  _ like that would do anything,  _ before trying again. 

“Austin? Please wake up.” He spoke a little louder and stepped a little closer. Austin muttered something nonsensical before rolling over, and Jeff groaned internally. He stared at him like a little kid would stare at the door to their parent’s room after a particularly bad nightmare, hovering awkwardly and occasionally speaking his name with varying volume levels. 

Eventually, he pushed aside enough dignity to call Austin’s name a little louder, and then poke his back directly between the shoulder blades. Almost immediately, Austin woke up with a sharp gasp. He sat up and turned towards Jeff, who stood with a red-hand to his chest and a grimace on his face, lone finger still pointing at Austin. He relaxed visibly once he still saw Jeff, but there was residual panic on his face nonetheless. The shocked, disheveled expression certainly wasn’t helped by the way Austin’s hair stuck out from his head in every direction. It seemed like the most disastrous case of bedhead Jeff had ever seen in his life. 

“...My apologies.” Jeff lowered his hand. Austin laughed, waving it off with one hand and slowly getting to his feet. Almost immediately, he was all but dive-bombed by a very enthusiastic Azura, her gleeful cries quickly waking up Luka. Jeff watched, a small smile subconsciously forming as Austin pulled what could only be _dragon treats_ (that was a thing?) from a pouch he’d been carrying and handed them out. Noticing said smile, Austin turned to him with the opened pouch in one hand. Both dragon’s eyes clearly tracked it, their little bodies still with anticipation. 

“You wanna try?” Austin asked, holding the pouch out. Something about the relaxed, easy countenance and lazy smile triggered a brief memory from the night before. 

_ “Jeff, you’re so...formal. It’s weird!” Austin was leaning out of the inn window, seeming to be searching the sky for something.  _

_ “Formal?” Jeff asked.  _

_ “Yea, like...you talk like this to every person that you interact with. You are very stiff with your words and posture.” _

“ _ I’m  _ alright, thank you.” He emphasized the change, perhaps a bit  _ too much,  _ straightening his posture with pride and blatantly hoping Austin would notice. The word felt foreign and oddly forced on his tongue, and it was weird to think about consciously speaking differently. 

“Wow, you talked like a normal person for a moment!” There was a hint of mockery to his tone, but he sounded genuinely surprised at the sudden change. Maybe Austin wasn’t as oblivious as his external appearance would leave one to believe. He laughed good-naturedly, then shrugged and tied the little strings of the pouch through a belt loop. 

“Well yes, I am— _ I’m  _ making attempts to speak a bit...less  _ distinctly _ , is that what how you worded it?” Jeff defended himself.

“I mean, yea, you’re working on it, but you’ve still got a long way to go.” Jeff deflated visibly at that, shoulders curling inward in disappointment. “I mean, it’s not that bad! You’ll get there!” Austin flashed an overly cheery grin, something that seemed to be a signature of his, and Jeff felt a little laugh bubble in the bottom of his chest. As he was about to point out that  _ some _ progress was better than  _ no _ progress, a loud set of knocks on the door grabbed their collective attention. Eight wide eyes flew to the closed door, which Austin opened with relative carelessness. The fact that he didn’t bother to check to see who might have been there first was slightly concerning to Jeff—fortunately, it was only Ray and Dean.

They both had forgone yesterday’s armor in favor of plain clothes, although Dean’s boots still looked rather armored and he carried two daggers at his side. Perhaps it was a matter of personal paranoia. He had been rather quiet, tense, yesterday, and Jeff had noticed how he seemed to look at every person around him for a bit longer than what one would consider normal. Ray, on the other hand, stood much more relaxed, arms crossed loosely. He had a trustworthy kind of face, Jeff thought, the kind that made you feel compelled to feel at ease in his presence. 

A little shimmer caught his eye, and his gaze darted down. A tiny glass bottle hung from a thin string around Ray’s neck, passing through the cork closing it. Inside, a single red petal danced slowly in a sea of ether, the vibrant color standing out amongst the muted palette of browns and greys and blacks of the Inn. Jeff had half a mind to question its significance before Dean spoke up. 

“Y’all ready for breakfast? I’m  _ starving _ .” He jerked his head to the left, towards the staircase that fed into the main room of the tavern. There was already a good deal of chatter wafting up from downstairs. Austin laughed at his blunt wording, turning to Jeff with a questioning eyebrow raised. He in turn nodded, looking over his shoulder to where Austin’s dragons had laid back down on the desk next to the window, sunning themselves peacefully. He wasn’t really sure what they ate, probably raw meat, but he assumed that dragons of any size weren’t exactly welcome in  _ human _ communal spaces.

  
  
  


Downstairs, the tavern kitchen was working hard, evidenced by the sizzle of cooking foods and the home-y scent of freshly baked bread drifting through the air. Hana was already awake and busying herself with delivering plates and scrubbing down tables as the room began to fill. Her pink hair made her easy to spot as she flitted from table to table like a busy bee going through a flower field. A small golden bell set the cadence for her work as it rang with each motion of the Inn’s entrance door. Eventually, she made her way to the staircase in the back to greet the four standing there. 

“Good morning! I’m glad to see you all...awake?” She blinked up at Austin, who looked to be sleeping on his feet for a moment until he shook himself awake and straightened up, giving her a sheepish laugh and  _ good morning _ . It was quickly echoed the three others. Hana then led them to the far edge of the seating area, close to the door, skirting the sea of tables with an astonishing amount of grace. She tightened the faded ribbon in her hair before setting a stack of worn parchment—likely menus—down. 

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to flag my father or I down. I’ll be back in a few minutes while you get settled.” She smiled, gesturing to a balding, middle aged man with thin, dark hair standing behind the bar and talking to a young couple with a smile. Then, she turned on her heel, pacing away until she was stopped by another patron’s outstretched arm. 

“So, Jeff. You got any information for us? Dean didn’t hesitate, leaning across the table with his elbows braced on the table, hands folded under his chin. His brashness made him a bit off-putting, truth be told, but Jeff nodded nonetheless. It was  _ entirely certain _ that this wouldn’t be the last time someone asked him about the Savior.

“What do you want to know?” He asked. “I never saw the... _ thing  _ for myself, if that is what you are interested in.” Dean shook his head, leaning back a little and getting out of Jeff’s face, for which the other was undeniably grateful.

“No, not that much. I just wanna know if you’ve  _ read  _ anything about it. The palace library’s gotta be _ stacked,  _ right? I was—” he cut off suddenly, a look somewhere between concern and confusion crossing over his face. He ran a finger down the side of the strange mask, currently pulled down under his chin, and cleared his throat. “I, uh, can’t say too much. But I have my reasons as to why I’m interested. And,  _ shit _ , yea, I guess that sounds pretty suspicious.”

Jeff stared at him for a moment blankly, debating how much he could really share about what he had read at home. The other presented himself as pretty knowledgeable on the topic, and he didn’t know how much he could offer up that wouldn’t be a repeat. 

“Do you know about relics?” He asked. That was probably a good place to start. At the kingdom’s start, ten relics were created based on ten major deities acknowledged by the people—ruling over fire, earth, water, air, space, time, humanity, evil, life, and death. There hadn’t been much information on them in the castle, but there had been a note of four that were needed to subdue the savior if it were ever to come back: the four relics residing in the four main areas outside of the capital. There were four stones, called the purification stones, which needed to be slotted into the royal crown, and doing so would release some kind of magical shenanigans capable of taking down the Savior. It wasn’t detailed in the book  _ how  _ that was supposed to work. As far as their origins went, Jeff suspected that they were given from the region’s gods as protection, but he hadn’t actually found anything confirming that.

“Yea, the ones used to summon the guy. I think they’re used to put him down, too. There’s what, like, ten of them?”

“Only four of them are needed for that,” he countered. Dean raised an eyebrow at that. “The ones that are in the four major regions. I think there may actually be one in...I believe it was Poppy Town? Although I am not sure how we would be able to get it.”

“Oh, that reminds me, I’m an  _ idiot.”  _ Ray interjected, reaching for something in one of his pockets. A moment later, he pulled out a slightly wrinkled envelope with a red wax seal stamping it shut, a small flower carved into the uneven circle. “Austin, I was supposed to deliver this to you. The whole reason I came out here was to, actually. It’s from Barry.”

Austin raised an eyebrow as he accepted the letter. Barry was one of his friends from school, back when he lived in Outer Asagao with his family. Due to some  _ circumstances,  _ Barry had been named the head of Poppy Town rather suddenly, effectively placing him in charge of all of the Flower Towns: a group of small towns including Poppy (the capital) and Bluebell, known mostly for their diverse agriculture and large food production industry. He opened the letter carefully, setting the envelope down on the table and making sure the wax seal didn’t tear anywhere.

_ Austin— _

_ Hope this letter gets to you soon. There’s been some weird magic stuff going on outside the town. Could you and McJones come out and give me a hand? No one else around here wants to go near it. _

_ —Barry _

That was...interesting, to say the least. Barry was an old friend from Austin’s school days, who’d been rather _unfortunately_ _and_ _suddenly_ put in charge of Poppy Town. He was always the more competent one, and he’d always been at least _a little_ smarter than Austin, so it was strange for him to come to _Austin_ of all people for help. Then, again, his brother was pretty much a genius, so it would make sense for him to be called out like this. 

“How long ago did you get this?” Austin asked, putting the letter back into its envelope and shoving it into a pocket. Perhaps he should have been more concerned as to why someone he’d never heard of delivered a personal letter like that—but Barry was a busy guy, and his network of acquaintances definitely stretched further than Austin’s. The distinct flash of pink through the sea of heads then announced that Hana was coming around to tables again with coffee—good, he was going to need it if things got any stranger.

“Just yesterday morning. Sorry, I totally forgot about it with everything goin’ on.” Ray gave him an apologetic smile. Austin shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine. It’s just, my brother isn’t really  _ around  _ to go with me, so I was wondering…when...why the long faces?” Immediately, he felt the pitying looks from every corner of the table. Perhaps saying any of that was a mistake, or it was worded poorly. “He—he’s not dead, I don’t think! Just  _ unavailable _ ,” he clarified with an awkward clearing of his throat. His companions stayed quiet.

“I will go with you, then. I would imagine I can’t stay in one place for a long time.” Jeff finally offered, putting one of his hands down on the table rather suddenly.

“Hold the fuck up, Princey. I’m pretty sure it’s not safe for you to go somewhere that’s  _ unsafe _ to begin with.” Dean argued. Jeff looked at him, clearly offended for a moment before Austin cut them both off.

“Why don’t we all go? Safety in numbers, y’know?”

“Ooh, where are you planning on going? If it’s close and you need a map, we have plenty!” Hana suddenly offered, popping up behind Austin with a coffee pitcher still held in one hand. He jumped, eyes going wide and a hand flying to his chest as he spun around to face the pink-haired girl, who was giggling at his startled reaction. “Lots of travelers come through here, so I’ve taken to sketching them out during downtime,” she added in between laughs.

“Poppy Town,” Austin said, still clearly trying to catch his breath. “Barry sent a note.” Hana nodded, reaching for the various, slightly asymmetrical mugs on the wooden table, filling them one by one with a look of sudden and intense concentration. A cloud of steam rose up from each mug as she did, fogging the bottom of her glasses momentarily.

“The walk’s about two hours south on foot, so if you leave soon, there’s plenty of time to get there before night,” Hana informed as she set the last glass down. “We can send you off with some food and maps if you need.” She gave a gentle smile.

“That would be nice,” Austin agreed. He looked up across the table again, and found his eyes meeting Dean’s for a moment. They were unfocused, staring blankly at a space somewhere between the back wall of the tavern and hell itself. There was clearly something on his mind, but Austin didn’t have a guess as to what it could be. When Dean noticed he was practically staring through Austin he jumped, shaking himself out of his trance and reaching blindly for the mug on the table in front of him. 

“I guess we’re sticking together for a bit?” Dean said, laughing nervously. He hid the bottom half of his face quite effectively behind the chipped mug, steam fogging up his glasses and obscuring the rest of his features pretty well. Something must have happened, or he had to have thought of or realized something, to suddenly appear so alarmed.

“Is everyone alright with that? I do not want to endanger anyone,” Jeff seemed a little nervous as well, though not quite as strung-up as Dean. His shoulders were rigid, squared, and he tapped a slow rhythm on the wooden table.

“I don’t see why it would be a bad idea,” Ray conceded. “Like Austin said, safety in numbers, right?”

That cliche excuse was definitely reasoning enough for the time being. Although they all had their own explanations to dread being alone, some secret and some not-so secret, none of the four would turn down the protection that traveling in a group offered.

* * *

  
  


True to her words, Hana had procured a map for the group to use—not without complaints from Dean however, who insisted he didn’t need one. She’d also lined a small, wicker basket with a sheet of white linen and then filled it with warm bread, cheese, and some dried fruits and nuts from the tavern’s cellar. 

After retrieving their personal belongings from the Inn rooms, the four met back up with Hana in the mid-afternoon. She stood in front of the entrance, holding the basket in front of her with both hands, a large map rolled up and tucked neatly under the handle of said basket. Almost immediately, Luka and Azura sped off towards her—Austin could tell they were very happy to be outside. Hana laughed, relinquishing a hand from the basket to reach for the two dragons. 

“Oh, they’re getting so  _ big!”  _ She said happily, twirling her finger between the two creatures and watching as their eager eyes tracked it, heads snapping around to follow the trajectory. “Last time I saw them they both fit in one hand! Austin, you must be  _ so proud, _ ” she beamed. Hana patted the two dragons on their heads equally before relinquishing them to their owner, who grinned with a proud laugh.

“It’s not  _ that  _ much of a feat,” he told her, but the look of sheer pride on his face gave the opposite impression. “Anyways, how far is it to Poppy Town again? It would suck to be out in the night  _ again, _ ” Austin complained. Hana nodded in agreement, checking the sun overhead as a reference for the time.

“You probably have enough time as long as you aren’t stopped by anything,” she said. “If you don’t think you can make it there in time, come right back here. The woods are...well, I think you know they’re not safe anymore.” She laughed lightly, still wearing her faint smile, but there was a strain to it that Austin didn’t often see. She held the basket out to him, the map nearly slipping out.

“What’s in here?” Austin questioned, lifting the white cloth just slightly, carefully not to disturb the map still sitting on top of this. His eyebrows lifted, head tilting at Hana. “You don’t have to give us anything, Hana, you’re already helping us enough.”

“Just consider it a thanks for stopping by again,” Hana’s tense smile eased into something more natural, more familiar. “I hope whatever’s out there isn’t  _ too bad. _ ”

With the pink haired girl’s well-wishes, the four set out quickly. Fortunately for them, Hana’s map, directions, and handwriting were all incredibly clear. She’d outlined the path to Poppy Town in a clean, dark line, noting landmarks to look for such as  _ incredibly knotted tree on left-hand side  _ or  _ small river running across path here _ .

They fell into two pairs, Austin and Dean leading the four through the forest. Luka and Azura drifted overhead, occasionally flying up into the foliage to check out a small creature or burrow that they discovered, but they always returned quickly. They all traveled with an underlying sense of urgency, a strange tension under their skin brought on by the mounting danger as the sun slowly crept across the sky, drawing ever closer to the horizon. Every rustle of a bird or squirrel in the bushes was a little jump, and every flicker of sun through the trees was a reminder of the ticking clocks.

“You know my brother, don’t you?” Austin finally broke the unbearable silence, desperate to hear anything besides the soft patter of footsteps and the occasional forest sound. He did his best to give Dean an  _ imposing _ sort of stare, the kind that would force the truth out of him, but doubted he could pull off such a look. “You’re acting funny. Why can’t you spit it out?”

“I’ve never met your brother, Austin. I literally met you yesterday.” His retort was sharp, quick, but Austin could see his hands fidgeting restlessly at his sides. Even from the side, he still had that deer-in-the-headlights look he’d had for a moment in the tavern. Austin wondered for a moment if he was physically unable to say something for fear of an external punishment. Yet that concept was as absurd as Dean knowing his brother, the more he thought about it: McJones did research. High-brain power stuff. Because he was so paranoid, he scarcely talked to people apart from family and a couple other researchers. And, well, Dean didn’t really come across as the  _ scholarly  _ type. 

Austin opened his mouth to point out how horrible Dean was at lying, but the bizarre look of plain  _ terror  _ on the other’s face stopped him before he could say anything. The two fell into silence, still leading the group by a little, until Dean turned to him to ask a question himself.

“Where’d you get that bow? It’s pretty cool.” He gestured to the silver bow Austin kept at his side, the same metallic shade as the quiver of arrows on his back.

“Oh, it was a birthday gift from my brother a few years ago. It’s pretty cool...I think the arrows are magical? They seem to always replenish.” He laughed. “My brother probably designed it, he never really said where he got it. He’s a magicky type, anyways.” Dean nodded, squinting at the bow as if he recognized it. It was kind of unsettling how quickly he went from alarmed to curious, the sharp look he gave almost intimidating. Even if he seemed kind of...blunt? Airheaded? Austin had to admit that there seemed to be more to him than what met the eyes. He was  _ clearly _ hiding something, _ and doing a pretty shit job of it _ , but he still left Austin entirely confused as to his intentions.

The two of them fell back into silence, much lighter than the previous break between questions. From behind him, Austin heard it was Jeff’s turn to be asking things.

“Ray, I have a question.” There was something that had been eating away at the back of Jeff’s mind since the conversations they’d had last night. The other raised an eyebrow at him, a silent invitation to continue. “I thought you were cursed? Most people with curses are hunted down. But you brought a letter to Austin, and you don’t seem worried about traveling alongside us.”

“I didn’t say it happened  _ recently _ . It’s not something people generally know about.” There was a strange, strained edge to Ray’s normally smooth voice for a moment, one that made Jeff look down at him in surprise. He almost sounded pained. For a moment after Jeff looked at him, Ray’s irises seemed to be dyed red, but he blinked and the illusion dissipated like dust being washed away. 

“Oh. I am sorry for pressing.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Ray shrugged, but his lips were still pressed tight together in a half-grimace. “I just don’t like talking about it.”

That was understandable enough, Austin figured. He hadn’t seen the interaction, but he could  _ hear _ the displeasure on Ray’s face. People were generally cursed because they, or their families, had done something that offended one of the gods. There were two major deities in particular, the ones governing over humanity and misdeeds, who seemed to love dishing out curses on humans. If someone wronged a god that badly—that generally wasn’t information people  _ liked  _ being free knowledge.

* * *

  
  


The sun was beginning its descent when the outer gates of the group’s destination came into view. Poppy Town, true to its name, was flanked by large fields on either side. The flowers had just begun to bloom, varying shades of green through red reflecting off of the party’s hand-held lanterns. A white marble gate remained open at the city’s entrance, and Austin found himself admiring the details in the decoratively carved vines and blossoms climbing the gates as they approached. He had seen them many times before, but the intricacy of the carvings never became any less beautiful. Two armored guards stood at the gate—that was new, last time he was here he had just marched right in—and the party stopped in front of them. 

The difference between each of the flower towns was astounding, but the biggest change between any of them was always felt when walking into the regal gates of Poppy Town. The cobbled streets, softly swaying lanterns, the tiny marble statues and rows of flowers tucked into little strips of grass all felt so much less rustic than the wooden taverns and dirt roads of other towns like Bluebell. 

“Hey—I’m Austin, Barry sent me a summon, I guess? These three are with me.” He held up the letter, the wax seal on the back still entirely intact as a proof of its origin. The guard on his left, who he faced, appeared surprised for a moment before nodding and turning to the one on the right. 

“Go ahead and inform Lord Kramer that his guest is here,” the guard instructed, and the other one nodded before dashing off.  _ Lord Kramer…. _ Austin could never really get used to that title. He’d heard it the last few times he’d gone to Poppy Town to visit Barry, and he knew that yea, Barry  _ was in charge _ , but it was weird to hear an old friend being addressed so formally. 

Poppy Town was just as lively as Austin had remembered it to be, especially with the prospect of warmer weather. Although the chill of night was still inclement, the days had been growing warmer as the ground began to thaw, especially in Poppy Town and the surrounding areas south of the capital. Colorful, hand-painted banners hanging from wooden storefronts advertised upcoming spring festivities and concerts, and the soft sound of floral-motif wind chimes carried down the cobbled streets on the back of a light dusk breeze. 

He took a glance over at Jeff, hit with a strange bit of fondness when he saw the slack-jawed, wide-eyed awe on the other’s face. He had assumed that Jeff had been sheltered as a child due to his noble status if nothing else, but it was oddly refreshing and inspiring to watch him experience the world, to take in all the sights of a simple town and the everyday citizen while being so blissfully ignorant of the dangers lurking behind the marble walls. 

“Austin, this town is pretty charming, is it—isn’t it?” He smiled, the yellow-orange lantern lights from the stores reflecting in his wide eyes. Austin smiled back without thinking, nodding. “The little storefronts, and the uneven street, and the festival announcements—they’re all so lovely. oh” Jeff‘s grin only grew, becoming brighter and more genuine. 

In addition to being amused by Jeff’s reactions to the town, Austin was also glad to see that the area was flourishing under Barry’s lead. He’d been stressed, understandably, about taking over the town so suddenly. Austin didn’t know all of the details, but he knew that Barry’s parents, who  _ had been  _ in charge, had ‘disappeared’ suddenly, forcing him to assume their position. In retrospect, it was strangely similar to what happened with Jeff’s family. Perhaps that was something he should bring up if given the opportunity.

He hadn’t been very happy about the sudden change, either, but Austin always knew Barry as someone who had a strong sense of  _ duty _ . Despite his reservations he’d left Outer Asagao, where he’d been one of Austin’s neighbors, about a year ago. Austin tried his hardest to keep up with the other, but it was hard when one was a highly-important official and the other was running a busy dragon-raising business out of his backyard.

Austin stopped short behind one of the guards, nearly running into him. They’d arrived at a building he recognized, tall marble gates similar to the ones at the front of the city unfolding into a long path lined with flower beds and beautiful statues. Little green buds had sprouted atop many of the plants, yet another welcome reminder that spring was just around the corner. 

“Lord Kramer should be out to greet you momentarily.” One of the guards standing at the front steps of the governor’s building informed them. The mansion was just as pretty as Austin had remembered, a set of shimmering iron lanterns hanging along the front portico, long colonnades stretching off the sides of the extending patio. Carvings of leaves decorated the tops of the columns, curling out and away from the marble at the tops. After a few quiet moments spent listening to the rushing water of the garden fountains, one of the grand, dark oak doors swung open, revealing the very person who had summoned Austin. He seemed taken aback for a moment by the amount of people at his doorstep, eyes very clearly searching for the other person he’d invited, but after a moment he seemed to adjust to the situation and stepped towards his old friend with a hand extended.

“Austin, thanks for coming out. And, bringing some help. But, where’s your brother?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hee hoo the mystery grows...thank u for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my own personal hell, i hope you enjoy it here!!  
> comments are super welcome!! thank you 100x for reading my little brainchild <3


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